Is This It?
by Eryberrie
Summary: Spin of of A Writer's Adventures, set six years later. Sherlock delivers a baby!
1. Boring Prospect

**Hey! I've wanted to do this for sometime. The idea of Sherlock delivering a baby intrigues me so I've written a fic based on that idea. Set in the future where gay marriage is (hopefully) legal.**

"Hi, John!" Alex half-sang down the phone.

"Hello, Alex. How are you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you. How would you and Sherlock like to come and see me this weekend? I'm having a barbeque on Saturday. You could stay over if you want."

A few seconds of silence passed in which Alex knew that John was wracking his brains to figure out of his best friend would be able to stand staying in a country house for a whole weekend.

"Um… I'd love to, but I'm not sure about Sherlock."

John hesitated as he said the Consulting Detective's name. Alex kept her fingers crossed, hoping that her two good friends would agree to visit her. She lost a fair bit of hope when she heard the familiar deep growling voice of Sherlock Holmes in the background.

"Tell her 'no', John. I can't think of a more boring prospect."

Alex sighed and then balled her hand into a fist. She didn't know if it was the hormonal effects of being eight months pregnant or the fact that she had lived in London with John and Sherlock for long enough that she had finally grown balls of steel.

"Put him on, John."

"Uh, I don't think that he'd –"

"Please, John. Put him on."

Alex sounded so insistent that she was sure that the former Army Doctor had handed the phone to Sherlock in half a second, for Sherlock's voice followed so shortly after that she had no time to breathe.

"No, Alex, I don't think –"

"Sherlock Holmes! You haven't been to see my house, I last saw you a year ago and I bloody well miss you! Just for _one_ weekend –"

"It would not be –" Sherlock interrupted.

Alex wasn't having it. "One weekend! Just come and stay with me and then you can go back to your precious London." Silence. "Please, Sherlock? I've got a library, high-speed internet and plenty of land for you to gather samples and stuff from. You can bring some lab equipment if it will keep you happy. You and John can have your own rooms; it's a large house and has some antique bits and pieces. I'm also pretty sure it's haunted!" Alex was really trying to sell it to him now. "Pretty please, with a cherry on top?" she asked in a high-pitched girly tone.

Alex's plea was met with an exasperated sigh. She was sure that he was exchanging glances with John, as if the two were sending one another mental signals.

"Fine."

Alex heard a loud clunk after this affirmative word, which she assumed was John catching the phone as it was tossed towards him in annoyance.

"Hello? Sherlock? John?"

"It's me, Alex," John replied. "Yeah, we'll come down on Saturday morning if that's okay?"

"Yes, that would be fine. That gives us a couple of days to sort things out."Alex and John continued their chat for over half an hour, catching up on what they had been up to which induced many huffs and, Alex suspected, numerous eye rolls from Sherlock. He had been extremely busy lately and had just proved a ten-year-old miscarriage of justice. He had also apparently scoffed at the article written by the victim in which he sang the Consulting Detective's praises.

It had been two years since Alex moved out of 221c to the beautiful Kentish countryside. She had accumulated over half a million pounds and, during Sherlock's "death", she had met a young film producer called Joanna, with whom she had fallen in love with at first sight. Their relationship spanned two years before they moved out together and the last time she had seen Sherlock was at their wedding a year before. Alex had met Joanna when the BBC asked Alex for the rights to adapt her first and third novels and, when she and Jo hit it off, they set up a production company together. They lived just on the outskirts of Kent, which was only a couple of miles from London so their commute to work took only half an hour. Mitzie was seven years old now and had acted as a surrogate mother to two Staffordshire bull terrier puppies. Alex had also fulfilled her childhood dream of having a horse and had adopted three from the RSPCA.

The detective strongly disliked Jo at first but, like he had done with Alex, he accepted her quickly. He had also deduced that Alex was pregnant before she had even announced it by email by seeing the pictures of her on her blog. Sherlock had also noticed mood changes in her tweets and blog entries.

John had visited Alex three times throughout her pregnancy. He tried and failed to find out the sex of the baby but Alex and Jo wanted to keep it a secret. Sherlock had blurted out that the baby was female (he had somehow deduced by a photograph of Alex's six month bump on her blog), prompting John to purchase a little collection of pink clothes.

At the age of thirty, Alex was more than ready to settle and have children, although she had never thought about having a family until she had met Jo. The IVF was successful on the second attempt and she had asked John and Sherlock to be the baby's godfathers. The latter had declined gratefully – Alex was sure that the request had nauseated him somewhat.

"Are you okay, darling? Is the baby kicking seven bells out of you, again?" Jo asked her wife as she crouched awkwardly, grasping the edge of the sofa. A painful tightening had suddenly gripped her whole middle. She tried to take a long breath out but it caught in her throat and her heart rate accelerated as she tried to keep herself from keeling over from the pain.

"Oh, God!" Alex exclaimed. "I need to sit down."

Alex held onto Jo's arms as her wife eased her onto the sofa. They sat side by side in one another's arms for a few minutes. Jo rocked Alex slightly and rubbed Alex's belly, trying anything she could to ease the pain.

"You don't think its labour pain, do you?" Jo asked. "I could call the midwife."

"No, no it's fine. I think it's just Braxton Hicks," Alex explained, flattening her palm mid-air. She had experienced a few twinges over the last couple of weeks and called the midwife several times. Alex was sure that woman was getting rather sick of being called upon in the event of false alarms because she had impatiently told Alex after the fifth time to only call when her waters broke. Both Jo and Alex had agreed on a home birth and to only go to hospital if absolutely necessary.

After twenty seconds or so the pain had subsided and Alex was able to get up from the sofa to lay the cloth over the long table for the buffet.

"Jo, I don't know if I'm gonna be able to get this all ready in time. The boys will be here in an hour or so, the stuff still hasn't turned up and I just –"

"Hey, stop panicking," Jo said soothingly as she embraced Alex. The writer hugged her wife back and secretly cursed her unborn baby for making something so simple like a hug so difficult. "It's fine, I'll take the van and go with John to get the barbeque and the other bits if he's okay with that. It'll be fine, trust me!"

They locked eyes for a minute, Jo instantly noticing that Alex was on the verge of tears. Alex was only three weeks from her due date and was getting rather fed up now. They wanted to meet their baby right then and there and whilst Alex enjoyed the first six months of her pregnancy (the vomiting and cravings for peanut butter and gherkins aside); it was now just a burden.

"Okay, we'll wait till the boys arrive, you can go and get the stuff and I'll sort out the food."

Alex and Jo kissed softly and tried their best to ignore their dogs' jealous whines. After the dogs were taken to the neighbour's house for the day, as Sherlock would not be able to tolerate their presence, Alex heard a car pull into the driveway.

Just as excited as if Father Christmas himself had called on Alex as a five year old, she bounded out the door in just her socks and cursed as the shingles on drive cut into her feet. John Watson was out of the car the second it stopped. They were both seated in the back and Alex knew instantly that Sherlock's extremely kind and ever-caring brother had arranged for one of his chauffeurs to give them a lift.

The doctor's hair had turned a little greyer and was very neatly cropped. He had acquired a couple more laughter lines but he had lost a little weight since his last visit a couple of months before. He beamed warmly at Alex and hugged her enthusiastically, wincing as the bump hit him in the stomach.

"Wow, this thing's big!" he exclaimed as Alex looked at him sceptically. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I'm just amazed that you're almost full term."

"Next time you come down I'll hopefully be back in shape!"

John smiled once more before he looked past Alex and greeted Jo, who was still standing facing the car. It was Sherlock whom Alex was mostly looking forward to seeing. He looked just as she remembered. Tall, dark and unforgivably handsome in his black designer suit, complete with the silk purple shirt he always looked amazing in. His hair was as short and curly as it always had been and his face still sported the alabaster complexion. She felt tatty in comparison with her maternity dress and leggings and long blonde hair in a loose bun. The only thing off-putting was the awful pout he was wearing and the way his eyes darted everywhere, deducing the driveway and house as if they were merely projects for him to work on.

"Sherlock?" Alex called innocently. She faintly heard John and Jo's chatting behind them get louder as they walked past to get to the boot of the car.

Sherlock looked at Alex – or rather scanned Alex expertly with a grim expression, placing his hands in his trouser pockets. Just metres apart, they stood still, gazing at each other. Eventually, the detective relaxed his shoulders and lifted one side of his mouth into a half-smile. It was a smile Alex had got to know well and she knew that he was always more pleased then he made out at such moments.

Taking his hands out of his pockets, he approached her slowly. His eyes alighted on her prominent bump, making Alex want to shield it, but there was absolutely no point in trying.

"Yeah, I know. I'm fat," she said, rather embarrassed given the detective's charming features.

"Hmm, I wouldn't say that."

"No?" Alex asked.

"No, not fat, just overweight. Your BMI is between thirty and thirty-one but, of course, the foetus gestating in your womb would give some people the illusion of the reason for your size to be due to weight gain, even though it is blatantly obvious that the reason is that you are eight months pregnant."

His deductions always seemed to stop the beating of Alex's heart. Even the simplest of ones Sherlock seemed to turn into a scientific diagnosis.

She continued to stare at Sherlock as he did with her. He had gathered all the data he needed from her in a matter of seconds and needed nothing further. Yet, he didn't move from her presence.

His face was soft, yet expressionless. Alex knew that only he could make the next move. She knew Sherlock didn't really want to be there and was preparing herself for hostility or worse; fake pleasantries. However, his next gesture surprised her.

His lips stretched into a full grin, friendly and inviting. Alex reciprocated and launched herself forward, seeing his lips part as she did. She knew that he was genuinely happy to see her. Groaning slightly at her weight as she fell into his arms, Sherlock caught her in time and hoisted her back into an upright position whilst they were still locked in a tight embrace.

Physical affection was never something Sherlock cared for and rarely gave. But they both needed it to break any ice.

"Good to see you again. I missed you," Alex confessed once she drew back. Sherlock nodded and gave a bashful grin. Alex knew that he would not reciprocate any words of sentiment and their hug was the best gesture she could expect from him.


	2. Is This It?

Sherlock's 'tour of the house' took all of ten seconds once he had got his foot in the door. He deduced the date of build, type of materials, the apparent risk of subsidence and that it was, in fact, old plumbing that gave the impression to 'suggestive minds' that the house was haunted. Nonetheless, he was eager to find Alex's library, which she had decorated in the style of a posh Victorian living room, complete with a wood-burning fire, large armchairs, candles, a china tea set and an antique bureau.

Alex looked on from the doorway and had to admit that Sherlock seemed strangely at home there. He immediately searched through Alex's encyclopaedia and took full advantage of the high-speed internet. He had brought his microscope, which Mycroft's chauffeur had kindly taken into the library for him. The Detective was by no means sociable for the following hour, examining petals from Jo and Alex's flowers that he had extracted from the back garden.

John agreed to help Jo collect the barbeque and equipment from the hardware store, but because they lived in the middle of the Styx, the only route was the motorway. Alex was happy being left in the house with Sherlock, for the talented Detective would be busy cramming his pristine mind palace with information that may come in handy in the future.

"You sure you'll be okay, darling?" Jo asked as she was leaving.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I've got my phone on me just in case – oh!" Alex's face contorted into an expression of someone in immense pain and she clutched her back as it tightened and the pain shot through her.

"Um, Alex, are you sure that you're okay with us leaving?" John asked anxiously. Alex kept her eyes squeezed shut but she knew that her friend's doctor- instincts were kicking in.

"Yeah, it's fine," Alex half-squeaked, her voice distorted by the pain. It began to subside and she stood upright again. Jo took her wife by the waist and they kissed slowly.

"We'll be back in an hour or so. If the pain comes back or your waters break… phone me."

Alex assured Jo that she would and she watched as she and John took off in her transit van.

Sherlock was hardly making a sound in the library at the back of the house. Alex instantly missed the presence of her two puppies and wished that Mitzie would climb down from her window ledge, but she was insisting on surveying the back garden through the conservatory glass and chattering to the birds.

After prepping the salads and placing them in the fridge, Alex's back was aching terribly. She couldn't stand much longer and had to sit down. The thought of a nice cup of tea was most intriguing but the pain would not allow her to move from the sofa and Sherlock certainly wouldn't make tea even unless it was part of an enticing experiment. An almost-forgotten memory of John telling Alex that Sherlock had once made him a cup of coffee with sugar (which he did not take) that the Detective thought had been drugged. Alex was glad she hadn't gone to Baskerville that afternoon and had instead stayed at Henry Knight's house.

The memory was soon interrupted by a sudden hard thump in Alex's abdomen, which caused her to involuntarily cry out. She tried to stand but the pain caused her to double over and she sank back into the sofa, clutching her middle and trying her hardest to breathe deeply as she had been shown in the ante-natal classes.

Despite several false alarms over the previous two weeks, Alex had a feeling that this was different. The sudden pains were just as harsh and incapacitating as they had been but were much more frequent today.

_Oh, God_! Alex thought. _Is this it? Is today the day, of all days?_

She really wanted to call Jo and ask her to come home. She also desperately wanted to call her midwife, Maria, but the thought of that horrible woman giving her the third degree again if the event turned out to be another false alarm was holding her back.

Alex groaned and gasped as she managed to pull herself of the sofa by the arm of the chair. Turning about slowly, she tried to reach into the pocket to grab her phone but dropped it once she realised that the sofa and her clothes were damp.

"Oh, shit!" Alex cried. She wondered if Sherlock had heard her, but he would clearly be in his own little world.

The phone had dropped in the corner between the sofa and the armchair so that Alex had no way of getting it – not in her condition.

Sweat was breaking out over her brow and although she wanted to hold her belly, which was cramping violently, she turned around slowly and made her way to the home phone in the hallway. Her breathing increased and the list of expletives from her lips became ever more creative as she struggled to remember Jo's number off the top of her head. Swearing again when she couldn't remember Maria's number either, she wondered if she should call an ambulance. There was no way she'd be able to give directions from the M25, which was the only route from the most local hospital to her house. Panic set in.

Would Sherlock be able to help? Alex dreaded what his approach would be to helping a woman in labour but she had no choice. Alex gathered all the air in her lungs and called the Detective's name as loud as she could. No answer.

"SHERLOCK! Please help me!" Still no answer. Alex was rather angry now. Angry that she was alone and angry that the pain was becoming unbearable. But the thing that worried her the most was that the baby was three weeks premature.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Alex hissed as she hobbled in the direction of the library, her waters still dripping over the tiled floor.

"Sherlock!" she called as she pushed open the door with more force than necessary. The banging sound on the wall snapped the Consulting Detective out of his trance in an instant. He whipped his head round, looking positively annoyed at the woman who had interrupted him.

However, once he saw the state Alex was in, he was clearly shocked. He sat, staring as the realisation dawned on him that his friend was in labour. For a world class Detective, he was often slow on certain uptakes.

"Sherlock, my waters have broken."

He stood up but stayed by Alex's computer, open-mouthed and speechless.

"Sherlock!" Alex yelled again, holding onto the frame and trying not to screw her face up too much from the pain, but it was a battle she was losing quickly. Sherlock seemed to come to his senses and approached Alex timidly.

"Where's your wife? Where's John?" he asked, awkwardly placing his hand on her shoulder as if it was an obligatory gesture.

"Ah… they left," Alex managed to utter between breaths, "an hour ago, I think."

Sherlock gripped her shoulder a little harder and seemed to search his mind to figure out what to do.

"Okay, um, have you called them?"

"That's the problem," Alex wheezed. "I dropped my phone beside the sofa and I can't get to it. I don't know Jo's number off by heart, or my midwife's. Please can you get my phone for me?"

Sherlock nodded and walked in the direction of the sitting room as if he had been asked to wash up after a dinner that he hadn't had the pleasure of eating. Alex took a seat in the wooden chair in the hallway and cursed how wet her clothes had gotten just as the contraction was subsiding. Seconds later, Sherlock appeared in the hallway and had already found Jo's number for her.

There was no time for gratitude as Alex snatched the gadget from his hand and pushed the green button down harder than needed. She whispered requests to thin air for her wife to answer and almost screamed when John's voice chimed down the phone. Jo was driving and could not answer.

Sherlock stood close to Alex, twiddling his fingers impatiently. Alex could tell he was trying to do what he was sure he was meant to do as a friend and support her but, clearly, he wanted to resume what he was doing on her computer in the library.

Alex writhed as another contraction pierced her back and belly. Her waters still dripping and was covering the chair. Sherlock seemed rather distracted by the growing puddle. He moved his brogue-clad feet away in fear of them being ruined. Alex couldn't care less at that point for Jo had some bad news to tell her wife.

"You're what?!" Alex screeched.

"I'm so sorry, Alex. There's been an accident a couple of miles up and there's a huge traffic jam. I don't know how long we'll be. You'd best call your midwife and see if she can get there quicker, or call an ambulance."

Alex thought about it, but she and Jo had been so certain on having a home birth that she would not call an ambulance.

"You may have to, Alex, if the midwife can't make it. Call her and then call me back."

Sherlock had taken off to the downstairs bathroom by the time Alex had found Maria's number. He had found several towels that he had deduced were old enough that Alex wouldn't mind if they were ruined. He threw them on the floor and mildly mopped up the puddle, his lips piercing in disgust.

Maria didn't live far away but she too would have to travel on the motorway. The midwife nonetheless agreed that she would be on her way as soon as possible and instructed Alex to lie on her bed and take her gym ball.

Once Alex ended the call, she felt a contraction leave her body. In the absence of pain, she looked at Sherlock who was still not sure what he was meant to be doing now that the puddle was cleared. Alex was certain that he was applying logical reasoning to the situation and not acting out of real care or concern. She secretly wanted to yell at him to go back to the computer and do what he wanted but, deep down, she needed his company.

"Sh-Sherlock, I need you to help me get to my room." She reached out to him, silently asking him to help her up.

Avoiding the damp towels, he hoisted her up and cradled her against him. He almost pulled away when the wetness of the hem of Alex's flowing white dress made contact with his designer trousers but when she was on her feet, he would not let her fall.

Both of them remained silent as Sherlock guided Alex up the stairs one step at a time, until they were at the entrance of Alex and Jo's bedroom.

Before they could step inside, Alex stumbled as another contraction coursed through her whole midriff. She cried out in agony and grasped the doorframe with such force that it cut off her circulation.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked quickly, holding her more firmly, yet still methodically.

"It's a bloody contraction, Sherlock, what do think it is?!" Alex told him through clenched teeth.

Sherlock pressed his lips together, recalling previously suppressed academic studies of childbirth for investigative purposes and deducing that he probably deleted the rest – or he decided that the mechanics of childbirth were irrelevant to him.

Alex half-fell onto the bed, crying and moaning with pain that was becoming more and more unbearable. Her phone rang within seconds of her settling on the bed and Sherlock scrambled to retrieve it from Alex's pocket. He winced as he realised the device was a touch damp and he held it a couple of millimetres away from his ear.

"John. No the midwife won't make it any quicker than you can. What? No, I can't, John."

"Can't what?" Alex asked once the contraction eased. Sherlock ignored her. Alex was sure she could hear John shouting.

"John, I have no idea… it'll just have to wait until… no, John, I can't."

"Can't bloody _what_?" Alex barked, holding out her hand for the phone. Sherlock stood still, his face a picture of shock and, for once, listening to what his best friend was telling him.

"Fine," Sherlock muttered indifferently before pressing a few buttons on the phone to place it on loudspeaker. "He wants to talk to both of us," Sherlock said, throwing the phone onto the bed.

"Alex? Can you hear me? Good. I know your midwife can't speak to you right now but I did a bit of childbirth studies at medical school and I'll help you as best as I can, all right? Sherlock? Sorry to have to tell you this but you're going to _have_ to deliver that baby."

The Detective gripped his head and paced the room before answering.

"I _can't_, John. It's all… _private_!" he said, gesturing in the general direction of Alex's reclined form. He was clearly embarrassed to say what he was thinking. "I'd have to _look_ and _touch_ her, John. It wouldn't be appropriate."

Alex swore she saw the Detective blush. He couldn't look her in the eye and huffed once John spoke again.

"Someone has to hold the head as it emerges. Alex can't do it herself. Shit, this phone's dying, Jo. I haven't got mine on me. Sherlock, just watch for the baby's head to appear, hold it and guide the body out. When the cord stops pulsating, clamp it with strong string if Alex has some and cut it in the mid –" the phone beeped and John was cut off.

Alex gritted her teeth and took a short sharp breath in before breathing out as slowly as she could manage. The contraction dissipated and she finally found she could speak without crying from the pain.

"Looks like we're on our own."


	3. Labour Pains

**Hello! This chapter is meant to be touching but light hearted. Hope you enjoy x**

Sherlock took a moment to compose himself when the reality of the situation sunk in. Alex was sweating, bright red and was crying with the pain and Sherlock felt rather helpless.

"Sherlock! Please make this go away, please!"

He shuffled on his feet for a few seconds and then darted forward to the bed, grasping Alex's arms and rubbing them soothingly yet systematically.

"Okay, um, I'll help you. Don't worry, I'll do my best." He withdrew and looked rather uncomfortable. He looked at Alex's sodden dress and seemed to struggle to speak, gesturing with his hands at Alex's bump. "Don't you, um, need to… you know, _remove_ your…?"

"Yes, I know!" Alex groaned loudly, trying hard not to make a noise like an angry cow. The contraction eased a little and Sherlock turned around so that she could discard her underwear without him having to look.

Once Alex relaxed and tried to breathe as deeply and calmly as she could, knowing that the next contraction was imminent, she saw that Sherlock was typing on his phone and scrolling through various websites.

After just over a minute, Alex's next contraction began, making her cry and groan uncontrollably. Sherlock then turned around and seemed a little more prepared for his task.

"Okay, I'm going to need some blankets for you and the baby, towels, warm water and a cloth. Do you think you can hang on for a minute?" he asked, rubbing Alex's arm reassuringly.

Alex nodded and threw her head back to let out an agonising scream, prompting Sherlock to move swiftly. He brought three blankets down from the top of Alex's wardrobe, ventured to the downstairs airing cupboard to find more towels, the kitchen to find a cloth and to the bathroom to fill up a large bowl of warm water.

Once he was back, Alex pulled one of the blankets over herself, covering her body from waist to knee. Sherlock removed his jacket and watch and had unbuttoned his cuffs to roll up his sleeves. It was obvious he didn't want to have to do it, but he had no choice.

Alex moved a fraction, as much as she could possibly do, so that Sherlock could place a blanket beneath her. He placed the other within reach so that he could wrap the baby up once he had cleaned it off.

As soon as the preparations were made, Sherlock no longer looked poised but had rather regressed to his initial feeling of uncertainty.

"What are you looking at me like that for? Oh, fuck!" Alex screamed.

"Nothing, I, um… wait a minute."

He knelt between Alex's feet and went back to rapidly typing on his phone and skimming his expert fingers over the screen. His eyes went wide a few times and his face was a picture of shock.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing? This baby's nearly here I can fe… oh, fucking hell!" Alex gripped the bed sheets and cried out in pain. If she had been able to move, she'd have throttled Sherlock by now.

"Right, I have to, er, check you, so if you could, um…"

"What?" Alex yelled, still squeezing her eyes shut.

"Would you mind if I…?"

"SHERLOCK! I'm in _so_ much pain that I _really_ don't give a flying fuck right now what you see! Just get this thing out of me, please!"

"Er, okay," the Detective answered, feeling is if a large sheet of ice had shattered at Alex's brazen confession. At least Alex was not bothered by what Sherlock would have to see… or touch.

"I had a look online at what I'm supposed to do, so if you could get your knees up, please," Sherlock requested as he drew the blanket up her legs. Alex was still crying and making obscene animal-like noises whilst Sherlock checked her. He had frowned each time Alex cried out as the noises were almost enough to deafen him.

After looking, he graciously let her know that he would have to reach inside to check how dilated she was.

"Um, you're fairly dilated so the baby's probably going to come sometime soon," he appeared to speaking out of speculation and did not sound very sure of himself.

"Thanks for the info, but please just tell me when this BLOODY BABY WILL BE OUT!" Alex yelled as loud as she could. She was practically drenched in sweat now and had almost torn her bed sheets by gripping them so hard. With her eyes shut tightly, she flinched as Sherlock wiped her face with a damp cloth.

"It's okay; I promise I'll do my best. Now, is there something I can get you for the pain?"

"Just whack me over the head with a hammer so I'll be unconscious for the whole thing. Oh, Jesus Christ! This thing better come out soon, it fucking hurts! I want Jo!"

Sherlock ignored her and continued to dab her face gently. Alex sensed that although the man liked to think he never put his heart into anything, she always saw his eyes shine brightly whenever he was on a case. At that moment, she started to witness the same thing, albeit at a lower intensity than if the Detective was solving a murder. He was behaving less like a robot that was being programmed to do something outside of its normal area and more like Alex's good friend who was trying to help her give birth.

Alex screamed through another contraction and held Sherlock's hand so tight he had to push the thumb of his other hand into her wrist to loosen her grip.

"What the hell did you do that for? Arghhhh! Shit!"

"In case you hadn't noticed, Alex, I need both hands free to deliver your baby. So, grip the bed sheets or the blanket or your pillow if you need something to hold on to but _not_ my hand."

Alex swore under her breath and clenched her fist into the duvet, scrapping the mattress harshly in the process.

"Look, if you'd rather I didn't –" Sherlock began.

Alex was instantly remorseful. "No, no, no! I'm sorry, it's just that this BLOODY PAIN is unbearable! I want this thing out!"

"I know, I know. Jo and John will be here as soon as possible. If you midwife doesn't show up, I'm sure John will know what to do if there are any… complications."

"_What_?" Alex screeched, her pitch exacerbated by the horrendous contraction that was still gripping her abdomen.

"Don't worry I'm sure everything will be fine…" Sherlock said as he placed his palms on Alex's bump and pressed lightly with his fingers expanded. He moved his hands over her gently and then further down to her pelvis. He wasn't a trained health professional, but somehow he could tell that the baby's head was ready to emerge.

"Okay, I'm going to have another look at you," Sherlock said as he checked her again.

"Right, I can see the head!" he exclaimed, seeming rather excited and gripping Alex's knees as he adjusted his position.

"_Where is it_?" Alex cried out, trying to reach for his hands but finding that her entire energy supply was being concentrated in her pelvic region.

"It's, um, just entering your, um, birth canal. The, er, website says that when the person delivering can see the baby's head, you need to push at the next contraction. Okay?" He, placed one hand on her tummy and nodded to ensure that she heeded his words. Alex nodded in return and braced herself for the arrival of her baby.


	4. The Birth

**Hope you like! As before, meant to be heartfelt but funny as well. **

Alex breathed deeply and rhythmically as she waited for the next contraction. Sherlock seemed to be breathing in time with her and was switching his focus from between her legs to her face.

"Are you okay?" Sherlock asked concernedly.

"Oh, I'm just brilliant!" Alex snarled through gritted teeth. She hated being so rude to Sherlock but she knew that the man would forgive her, given that he had been rude several times throughout their friendship as well as the fact that Alex was in rather acute pain.

"Right, um, the baby is moving down your birth canal a little, so I'd say the next contraction is imminent," Sherlock explained.

"God, Sherlock, why can't you just say 'vagina' like everyone else? Oh, fucking _hell_!" Alex screamed as the contraction took hold. Sherlock's face morphed from mild shock to concern as he bent down so that he could take hold of the baby's head when it came.

"It's almost here. Push, Alex, push!"

"I _am_ bloody pushing! Arghhhh!"

"Good, good, well done. The baby's head is coming. Keep pushing, Alex."

Alex strained and stretched her neck back as far as possible, pushing with all her might. Sweat broke out from every pore and she felt Sherlock's fingers at her vulva, forming a small circular shape as her baby's head began to emerge. Sherlock closed his fingertips around the cranium, firmly yet gently holding the head and guiding it out.

"The head's here, the head's out, Alex! Just the rest to follow. At the next contraction, push hard!" Sherlock seemed to have taken on the role of 'midwife' rather well, remembering and expertly applying the knowledge that he had obtained from a few websites over the space of about a minute. Alex knew that he was an expert speed-reader and a _very _fast learner. She honestly thought that there was nothing the man could not do. As cold as he usually was, he was being remarkably sensitive at this moment. Sure, Alex sensed that he was applying the delivery methods as he did with his cases but, because Alex was his close friend, he was certain to feel a level of sympathy and a sense of duty to help her when she needed it, even if it meant becoming more physically intimate than they had ever been before.

As soon as the next contraction came, Alex felt herself open even wider than before and the pain doubled in intensity as the baby's shoulders were squeezed out.

Within seconds, the baby's body almost fell out and was caught by the Consulting Detective. The relief from the pain was instant and Alex revelled in it, relaxing on the bed with a sigh and several deep breaths.

"It's a boy," Sherlock said, sounding a little surprised.

"I know. Is he okay?" Alex asked quickly. Sherlock didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the squirming baby who was beginning to cry in his arms. A smile spread across his face as he cradled the new born.

"Sherlock? Can I hold my son, please?"

"Mmm? Oh, oh, yes, um, I just need to, err, cut the cord and wash him off."

Alex really wanted to hold and touch her new baby, wishing that Jo could be there to share the joy. Tears rolled down her face and she couldn't take her eyes off her beautiful son.

Sherlock spread the lace blanket he had found earlier on the bed and placed the baby boy on it. He 'shushed' the child as it cried desperately and washed him off with a damp cloth.

The cord had stopped pulsing and Sherlock was sure to clamp it at the right place before cutting it. He had also brought a nappy from the nursery and, somehow, managed to put the baby in it without making a mistake. Alex wondered if he had done it before. She also wondered if his brother Mycroft had cared for him as a baby. There _was_ a seven-year age gap between the two men, after all.

"Oh, Sherlock, I think you've got 'the touch'!" Alex said with a touch of sarcasm, which was met with an annoyed, yet light-hearted glare from the Detective.

"It's only practical. I'm sure you don't want your baby to be covered in… this stuff."

Alex had to agree. Then, something else occurred to her.

"The placenta!"

"That's the reason I placed a towel underneath you. I'll remove it in a minute."

Sherlock dried the water residue from the boy's tiny body before wrapping him warmly in the large lace sheet as Alex held out her arms impatiently. Sherlock leaned over to hand Alex her son. She held him protectively, yet delicately, instantly welling up again with the sheer emotion of it all.

She stroked her baby's little pink face, mesmerised by the softness of his skin. Sherlock made quick work of taking the placenta away and placing it in the adjacent bathroom.

When Sherlock came back, Alex was no longer looking at her baby, but at the Consulting Detective as he used the rest of the warm water to wash off his hands and arms. He gawped at Alex when he saw her staring.

"What?"

"Thank you. Thank you so much. I know this wasn't easy for you."

Sherlock chuckled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond.

"I mean it. I'm very grateful and very impressed. Here," Alex said, patting the empty space beside her. Sherlock hesitated.

"Please. Sit with me."

Sherlock still stared. "Um, I need to use, er, soap and water, the stuff's not coming off," he said quickly, making a beeline for the door and disappearing into the bathroom. Alex contemplated calling for him but decided that raising her voice in desperation wouldn't be good for her baby.

Sobbing a little, she realised that the baby boy would need feeding. Cradling him with her left arm, she lowered the arm of her dress and her bra strap so that she could breast-feed.

Sherlock was in the bathroom for five minutes before he came back. His cheeks looked a little flushed and Alex could tell that he was trying to switch back into 'machine' mode. Had it worked? Alex wasn't sure.

Sherlock stood, glaring, once he realised that Alex was breast-feeding and was not certain what to do.

"You've seen it all, Sherlock. I don't mind, really."

Sherlock had to agree. He had seen plenty of naked corpses and multiple bodily injuries, as well as Alex's lower region.

"I wonder when Jo and John will be here. She'll be so upset that she's missed the birth of our son."

The Detective stood at the foot of the bed, secretly liking the image of Alex with her baby. It reminded him of the beautiful painting of Madonna and Child.

"Please come here, Sherlock," Alex pleaded. That time, Sherlock acquiesced and climbed onto the bed, leaning in close to Alex's left.

He touched the baby's soft head, which had wispy strands of brown, baby-soft hair.

"Thank you," Alex repeated.

"Don't mention it," Sherlock returned with a smirk.

"Are you bored?" Alex asked.

"Mmm, a little."

"Sorry."

"It's fine," Sherlock said, retrieving his phone. "I'll just play solitaire while we wait for the others."

It seemed as if Sherlock had spoken too soon, as the doorbell rang just as he started a game.

"It'll be Maria. Jo has a key," Alex told him.

Sherlock dismounted the bed with a groan, hating being the one to have to carry out such a mediocre task as answering the door to someone. However, he was a little happy that Alex would be in the hands of someone who was paid to look after expectant and new mothers.

Maria had obviously pushed past Sherlock as Alex heard him huffing in the hallway. The midwife ascended the stairs at a gazelle's pace and bustled into the room so quickly that it made Alex jump. Her son was also startled when she jolted, unlatching his little mouth from her breast and starting to cry again.

"Okay, give me that baby," Maria said, not seeming to care that she had caused a commotion. She reached for the baby harshly and tried to pry him from Alex's arms. Alex instinctively pulled back, suddenly not liking Maria's presence, even though she had hoped for her arrival during the labour.

"What are you doing? I need to check him," Maria said, slapping her thighs.

"No, you don't," Sherlock chimed. He entered the room coolly, adopting his undisputed authoritative tone, "you need to check the mother first. I read up on childbirth and I know that the mother's welfare comes first."

"Are you a midwife? Are you a doctor? No, so butt out and let me do my job. Give me that baby."

"No!" Alex cried, trying to edge over the bed away from her.

Maria ignored her and tried to reach for the baby again. Maria's hand was about to grasp Alex's son's back when a strong hand wrapped around Maria's wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Keeping the baby – and my friend – out of harm's way. You're not fit to be a midwife and you've clearly neglected your professional obligations. On the way here you had a cigarette and have tried to disguise the odour with chewing gum and a cheap imitation of Chanel No.5, quite poorly, I'm afraid. You've got uneaten pizza to get back home to, which is why you are eager to finish your work here and, judging by the dent on your car, which is fresh, you had a minor accident on the way here… and didn't stop. You have no concern for Alex or her son and the fact that your ear piercing is at the early stages of infection shows that you take personal hygiene with a pinch of salt. Keep your hands off the baby and away from his mother."

Alex had never known Sherlock to be so protective of her and was amazed that he had once again shown great humanity. He had also kept his voice as low as possible so not to scare the baby. Alex owed him so much and she felt like crying again.

"Get out," Alex demanded, keeping her voice low as quiet as she could. Maria stared at them both, startled.

"You heard her. This is her house; please leave."

Maria continued to stand and stare.

"But… they both need to be checked…"

"We'll get another midwife, thank you, or we'll take Alex to the hospital. Now, leave this house," Sherlock warned, his eyes spitting venom.

Maria finally got the message and left, slamming the door on her way out.


	5. All Over Now

Alex continued to cradle her baby while she and Sherlock waiting for the return of John and Jo. She switched the baby's position after a few minutes and Sherlock was gracious enough to give her some privacy as she did so. He returned five minutes later with a glass of water for her, which Alex acknowledged with a smile.

"I'm knackered." Alex sighed.

"I should think so!" Sherlock said pointedly. He sat next to the bed and held the glass to Alex's lips so she could have a drink.

For a few moments as the youngster suckled contentedly, Sherlock just simply sat on the edge of the bed by Alex's thigh. He seemed to be slowly contemplating the events of the day. It was odd, as Sherlock's thought processes were never slow.

Once insight Alex had with Sherlock was that she could, at times, see the real man inside. He appeared transfixed on the sight of a mother with her new-born son. A small smile was evident in the slight plumpness of his cheeks, accentuated by the prominent bones above.

"You okay?" Alex asked. Sherlock appeared not to hear her and seemed rather lost in thought. Alex prompted him again.

"Hmm? Oh, um, yes. I'm fine. I was, er, just thinking that it's best that we get you to a hospital, due to the premature birth and the fact that this is your first child."

There was no time to protest as Sherlock was already on the phone to call an ambulance. Alex had to agree that even though she wanted to stay at home, with no midwife, precautions had to be taken.

The traffic jam had cleared enough for John and Jo to arrive back home ten minutes after Maria's departure. The couple cried together as they held and caressed their beautiful baby and Jo was so engrossed in the wonder of the moment that she had completely forgotten that the usually rude and inconsiderate Consulting Detective, with whom she had a difficult relationship, had delivered her little boy into the world.

"Sherlock was fantastic, Jo," Alex explained after telling Jo and John about Maria's visit. "He cleaned him, wrapped him up, cut the cord… everything."

Jo seemed a bit miffed about the fact that Sherlock Holmes, rather than her, had been the first to meet her son. Yet, after a look from Alex, she agreed that she only felt gratitude towards him. Jo walked up to Sherlock with a grave look on her face and took a moment to prepare herself before speaking.

"You know, I never liked Alex's idea of you being our baby's Godfather," Jo said as she shook Sherlock's hand. He furrowed his brow, questioning her statement. "But now, I'm more than happy with it. Both of you. Please will you be my baby's Godfather, Sherlock?" John had already agreed to be Godfather in a phone call.

The latter had been busy taking Alex's pulse and the baby's temperature but took a moment to turn to his best friend and smile. Sherlock looked positively awkward and continued to glare at John. The former army-Doctor held his ground and raised his eyebrows, flickering his eyes to the sleeping baby. Sherlock shifted on his feet and looked indecisive before looking upon the little boy in Alex's arms and smiling softly.

"Of course. I would be honoured to be his… Godfather."

Alex blushed and, for the first time since the birth, she wished she was not holding her son so that she could hug Sherlock. However, she knew and accepted that he was not the affectionate type.

A quiet squeaking sound came from the hallway and Mitzie came padding into the room. She leapt onto the bed and was instantly curious about the new being in the room. She sniffed the blanket calmly and then sat gently on the duvet, mesmerised by the new addition to the family, silently accepting him.

A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived and Alex, Jo and their son were whisked to hospital. John agreed to stay behind with Sherlock so that he did not get bored and set fire to something.

Alex and Jo named their baby William and decided that Molly Hooper and Jo's sister Annette would be the Godmothers. Baby William weighed in at six pounds exactly and, once mother and baby were pronounced well enough to be discharged, Alex and Jo arrived back home that night. They were greeted by John, who had stored away the barbecue food and had cultivated a lavish dinner from the food that Alex had already prepared that day.

Sherlock stayed awake that night, researching psychology online. William awoke a number of times and Alex found herself awake most of the night too.

"I've never been a godfather before," Alex heard Sherlock say from the crack in the door of the bedroom.

"Come in here," she called softly, so not to wake Jo. Sherlock quietly stepped into the darkened room and made his way to Alex as quietly as a cat, kneeling by her side where Alex was sitting with William latched onto her breast again. Sherlock's face seemed to contort slightly at Alex's expression.

"Are you all right?" he asked awkwardly.

"Um, yeah, this just hurts quite a bit and I'm really tired."

Sherlock smiled a little, shifting so he could see William's profile and then touched the baby's cheek lightly. John had almost become a self-appointed nanny that evening, taking the little one and even changing him a couple of times so that Alex could rest and Jo could clear up after dinner. Sherlock, however, had not made contact with the baby again since his birth and, although he seemed to revert to his normal self, Alex was beginning to doubt Sherlock's agreement to take on a role in her son's life. He didn't _have_ to, of course, but Sherlock, John and Molly were Alex's closest friends and people who Jo also liked and respected.

"John's overjoyed about it. I know that he really wanted – _wants_ – children."

The baby stopped suckling and Sherlock took him from Alex whilst she sorted out her clothing. William then began to cry, which woke up Jo.

"What are you doing in here?" she asked sleepily.

"Um, I'm –"

"He just wanted to hold William, darling. Just so I could sort myself out and go to bed."

"Hmm, okay," Jo uttered before falling back to sleep.

Alex stood and threw a towel over her shoulder before taking back her baby, rubbing his back soothingly. Once he had fallen asleep again, Alex placed him in his cot. She watched him sleep for a few minutes and then realised that Sherlock was doing the same.

"There _is_ something quite fascinating about them," Sherlock confessed, "as well as how they come into the world. It's quite extraordinary, really."

"Who are you and what have you done with Sherlock Holmes?" Alex asked jokingly. The detective smiled and patted her shoulder lightly.

"I'll leave you alone. It was, um, quite an experience."

Alex blushed and bade him goodnight as he quickly left the room. William needed changing and stirred again, prompting Jo to fully awaken and volunteer to take over the task so Alex could sleep.

"Oh, Alex?" Sherlock called from the hallway. He approached the door, which was slightly ajar and smiled at both Alex and Jo. "Congratulations."

Six months later, William was christened and had four new Godparents: a Teacher, a Pathologist, a former army-Doctor and a Consulting Detective. Alex and Jo agreed that he would have an interesting upbringing.

John had vowed to teach the youngster rugby when he was old enough and Sherlock had already tried, and failed, to show him how to solve a Rubik's cube.

Alex secretly missed her old life in Baker Street and solving crimes with the boys but her family was everything to her; her wife, her son and the animals they adopted. It was her dream from a child and she hoped that, one day, her son's dreams could come true too.

**Thank you for reading - really hope you enjoyed it. Kisses xxx**


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